


Hate For Change

by CheekyBrunette



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyBrunette/pseuds/CheekyBrunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis will tell himself anything it takes to get himself the right size, even if it’s not true and even if it makes him stop eating all together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate For Change

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I didn’t write this because I see any of this in Louis, okay? I wrote it because it just was a part of my life that I now kinda want to start accepting and things, and this is just me like… putting a toe in the water. So don’t think I think this way about Louis, or see this in Louis, or have negative opinions about Louis. I just feel like if I related well to any member of the band it would be him or Niall, and I did Niall last time, so. That’s why this is a fic.

Louis starts because he wants to.

It's not like he honestly thinks he's fat or disgusting, it's just that everybody _else_ seems to think so. And yes, sure, maybe there's a rather large pocket of fans that love his tiny little belly. "Tommo Tummy" is a tag on tumblr, and there are more tweets about it than a person would really want to see about any of their body parts. However, just because there are lots of fans who think it's cute, or lovely, or maybe even sexy in more extreme cases, Louis can't help but notice that he _has_ a tummy _for_ people to find cute, lovely, and sexy.

And he's not dumb; he knows what his tummy is. He knows it's fat and chubby. He knows people don't get turned on by muffin tops, and with the jeans Louis wears he feels like he _always_ has a muffin top. He also knows that while _some_ fans don't mind and appreciate it, _most_ fans think it's gross and awful and have no problem telling him their opinions on the matter. Their insensitive and extensive opinions.

Sometimes it feels like Louis gets handed a mirror with his paycheck. Being famous turned on the lights for him, and he doesn't like what he sees.

Louis has never been the thinnest kid on the block. He was a chubby two-year-old, a rounder five-year-old, a thicker seven-year-old. Maybe he was skinny in his awkward years, but that didn't really count because Louis was _ugly_ during his awkward years; everyone is.

It's just that all his life, he never _noticed_. He never cared; it hadn't mattered. He has always thought he looked well enough. He only started caring _now_. This had never been an issue before. Why did it matter _now_?

So he starts because he wants to. He starts to loose a few pounds and get maybe Liam's or Harry's abs. He starts to get flat. He starts to lose fat. He starts because he wants to.

* * *

_Put it down, you disgusting piece of shit. Do you know what this is going to do to you? You already look like a mother-fucking cow, you don't_ need _this. What's it like to be a glutton, Lou? How does it feel? Do you like looking like you do? Because it's revolting, so put it down, put it down, put it-_

"G'mornin', Louis," a sleepy Niall says as he collapses onto the bench in front of him, and Louis's spoon clatters back into his bowl.

"Morning! Didn't hear you wake up!" Louis replied, shaking himself out of his self-deprecating thoughts and focusing on Niall. Louis liked Niall because Ni had a habit of unknowingly noticing who in the band needed a smile and showering them with love. Niall was like sunshine on a cloudy day, to make things clichéd, and whenever you were in a room with him, you always found yourself perfectly attended to.

Louis needed attention, and he needed someone to follow along with all his bossy shit, and that's why he and Niall worked so well. Of course, Niall worked well with everybody.

"Dude, I'm so sick of cereal, I don't know how you're eating that, maybe we can get the driver to stop some place for breakfast," Niall says offhandedly because Niall's brain is always focused on food and eating, and that is the reason he and Louis _don't_ work so well.

"Mmmmm… pancakes…" Louis mumbles because he really is hungry, even if he's trying to convince himself he's not, and it's morning, and he's still sleepy, always sleepy. Niall smiles and cuddles with Louis's legs, fortunately propped up against the bench he'd collapsed on.

"And waffles," he adds, pulling out his phone.

And they sit like that for a while. Louis always wakes up before everyone, and Niall a little bit after that, and then there's a good couple ages before the other boys manage to pick themselves up out of bed. Liam pushes himself so hard for everyone throughout the day that no one can find it within their hearts to wake him up, Zayn really is a bitch without his beauty sleep, and Harry just wakes up so _slowly_. He does most things slowly.

Louis just stares at his cereal as it grows soggier and soggier in his bowl, breaking apart and turning to mush, as he tries to convince himself he didn't actually want it and that he wasn't hungry in the first place.

The problem is he doesn't believe it. Louis tells himself all these shit, but he doesn't feel it, it doesn't hit him, not yet, no matter how hard he tries. He knows it takes a while to lose weight. He has a mom and five sisters and they're always trying.

"Niall, we really _should_ stop for breakfast. I think we've got time," he says half-heartedly long after their conversation had ended, and Niall brightens immediately, flinging himself over the table into Louis's lap.

"Yay! You ask, okay? I'm gonna wake everyone up," he says, throwing himself off of Louis and heading to the bunk room at the back of the bus.

Louis rests his head on the table, lacing his fingers behind his neck when Niall can't see. "Yeah. Okay."

* * *

Louis gets his own hotel room, and he's been waiting for a chance like this. He needs a mirror to himself so he can get through some things undisturbed.

You see the problem is that he doesn't believe himself enough when he just says bad things when he's eating. It works, and it gets him to stop himself for the most part, but it doesn't last. He's always hungry, always thinking that all this shit is stupid, always so, so tired.

He can fix that, though. He can make himself want this; he just needs to be a little more convincing.

Louis stands in front of the mirror and looks at himself. Nothing is really incredibly wrong about him of course, no, he looks fine, but _other_ people think things are wrong with him, and Louis… Louis just needs to fix it. He needs to be perfect, and he needs to _fix it_ , so he tells himself bad things. He stands in his boxers in front of the mirror.

 _God, Lou. Who was responsible for teaching you portion control? They did a terrible job; you look awful. How can you stomach looking at yourself like this? Oh wait; you obviously can stomach_ anything _, can't you? Can't you?_

He zeros in on his stomach and works up the nerve to say everything that everyone else has been thinking. (Or, at least, what he thinks everyone else has been thinking.)

_Louis, you've got fat pooling over your waistband. That is revolting, you look… you look misshapen, people aren't supposed to grow out like this. Why don't you just stop? Stop cramming your face for ten minutes. Obviously it does bad things to you. Just stop. This is disgusting; you are disgusting. Do you not see it? How do you not see it?! How have you let this go for so long, Lou? How could you do this to yourself?_

Louis really doesn't see it. He doesn't see what he's trying to tell himself, he can't… it's just a hard thing. He just wants to be skinny, and it feels like this is the way to do it. This is the only way to do it; nothing else has _worked_. He needs something to work.

And maybe it is sinking in a little. Maybe it is sinking in, and it feels _awful_ because Louis doesn't want to think he's hideous. He doesn't want this to be a permanent thing; he just wants to eat less. He wants to be thin.

And he will _hate himself_ until he can _change himself_.

He grips the edge of the sink, looking at his every curve and finding a fault because _shit_ , is he _fat_. He is so fat he is surprised the floor is holding him up. It really _is_ gross, and it's _everywhere_. He is _drowning_ in it. He is telling himself he is _drowning in it._

 _And don't get yourself started on your ass, Lou. That's just… that's just… have you seen the gifs? Have you seen the pictures? It's so… It's all over the place. It fucking jiggles when you walk because it's so fucking massive. You can't buy pants. You can't buy pants to fit over this shit. You can't buy pants to fit_ around _this shit. You're disgusting, you're revolting_ , _you're_ disgusting _. Stop eating._

Louis shuts his eyes against himself for a second, but he knows that won't do because he won't take it to heart if he doesn't see. It's not going to work if he doesn't look.

Oh, God. He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to _look_. _Please don't make him look._

He takes a deep breath and decides just to focus on the bridge of his nose, pushing everything to his peripheral as he puts the same old thoughts on repeat. He has to believe this. He has to do this.

_Stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, this is so bad for you, stop eating stop eating stop eating, stop eating, stop eating. You'll never look right if you don't stop eating. You'll stay like this if you don't stop eating. Stop eating, stop eating, stop eating._

Louis ends up on his knees, sobbing into his hands because this is too much, and this is so _hard_ , and he's awful. He's just so awful. He looks awful, he feels awful, his head is so, so awful, and it doesn't help that he's tired. He's just so tired.

 _Stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating. You don't deserve it. You don't_ deserve _it._

* * *

Louis used to force himself to think bad things. He used to have to remember to make sure to keep up the rant and not get too immersed in his friends. He used to have to think about what to say and he had to come up with ideas that would hit him hard.

It's all so painfully easy now.

"… and then I was just like 'why would you even say that', you know? Cause it just seemed mean to mention, but I don't know, no one ever listens to the famous pop star and things," Harry says, and Louis is just nodding along, picking at his crisps. He's too lost in his thoughts to really take in what Harry is saying. He doesn't even remember what they were talking about, but that's okay because One Direction is there for each other's _everything_ , and every story shared is most likely a retelling of something they all went through. Harry waves a hand in front of his face and Louis snaps to attention.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," he says, scrubbing at his eyes and leaning on Harry's shoulder. He's just tired. He's just so, so tired. It's like he doesn't sleep at all anymore when in reality that's _all he's been doing_. (It's half because, again, he's _tired_ and half because if he's sleeping, he's not eating, and Louis really, really, _really_ doesn't want to be eating.) Harry frowns and wraps an arm around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair.

"Are you 'right?" he asks, and his voice is familiar and homey, and Louis could be stuck in the middle of the artic without a coat and still feel like he was snuggled up in bed providing Harry was there to talk to him. Harry could wash over his cluttered, angry brain with just three words.

"I'm fine. Just a little sleepy," he said, and Harry hummed in an oddly disbelieving way. Louis didn't like it.

"You woke up after me today," Harry says, combing his bangs up off his forehead because it's lunchtime, but Louis was still putting of doing his hair because it just seemed like such a chore. Of course, he'd have to do it the second they walked out of the hotel. There was no way he wouldn't. He had to look perfect. Besides, his ugly face couldn't make up for ugly hair. "Come to think of it, you've woken up later than me every day for a few weeks now. You… You always used to wake up before everyone," Harry muses, and Louis hides his face in Harry's neck because he belongs wrapped up in Harry; that's all there is.

"I've just been tired, Harry. Tours are hard," he reasons, and Harry frowns even more.

"Not for you," he argues, picking Louis up by grabbing his arms and moving him into his lap, looking him straight on, and Louis squirmed. "They've never been hard for you. What's going on, boobear? What's wrong?" he questions, and Louis winces. Boobear. He hasn't heard that one in a _long_ time.

"Nothing," he answers, and Harry is quiet in a way that says he doesn't believe him. Louis bites his lower lip and speaks as if he's changing subjects, and hopefully Harry won't catch that he's not. "I'm thinking about losing weight," he says. Harry tickles his waist, and Louis laughs but moves away because _no one_ is allowed to touch him there.

"Thinking about it? Seems like you've already gone and done it. You're looking slim, boo," Harry assures him, but Louis doesn't let himself take in the compliment. If he lets himself feel good, then he won't progress any further. He won't change if he doesn't hate himself. He has to keep hating himself.

"Eh, I don't know. I really want to look good and things. You and Liam and Zayn look really, really good," he says, and Niall hears him from the other side of the table.

"Oi, and I don't?" the blonde asks, thrusting out his skinny chest and shimmying a bit to show off, and Louis cracks a smile.

"Niall, you look _great_. That's _more_ than really, really good, I think you'll agree," he assures him, and Niall just laughs like he always does, and Zayn picks up the blonde and steals his lips in a kiss just like he _always_ does, and Louis wishes he has the confidence to put himself out there like all the other boys can.

* * *

_Fat, stupid, ugly, worthless, you don't deserve to eat, you don't deserve to breathe. Stay skinny, don't get hungry, getting hungry just proves what a glutton you are, don't eat, don't eat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat-_

"Liam, would you pass me the wax? It's at your elbow," he said, nudging the other boy in the side as they did their hair next to each other in the mirror before leaving their hotel in favour of heading to the next city over.

_Disgusting. Your shirt can't hide the situation underneath; you're as big as a cow. You're huge, colossal, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, don't get hungry, don't get hungry, don't make yourself look worse, you keep on looking worse._

"Sure, mate, catch," Liam says, tossing him a jar of product, and Louis catches it in one hand, using the other to poke at the alarmingly dark circles under his eyes. He looks positively exhausted. He _feels_ positively exhausted. He's just so, so tired. All the time, he is so, so tired. He never used to be this tired.

Liam wordlessly slides over a bottle of concealer –an unmanly must have in the lives of One Direction- and Louis beats himself up a little harder because, _shit_ , other people are noticing.

_Louis you look awful. Your hair is dull, the circles under your eyes look like grocery bags. Your face is awful, your body is awful, you are awful. Where did your tan go, Lou? Since when did you look like a vampire, you're so fucking pale. You're hideous. You are hideous. Fix yourself, stop eating, stop eating._

"You know… you've been strangely quiet lately, Louis. And missing all your regular sass," Liam trails off, and Louis tries to bite back a groan. Maybe he's been outwardly quiet, but inwardly he's screaming.

"I don't know… just guess I got a lot on my mind," he admits, and he's stressed that people will see right through him.

 _God, you are horrible. You are so fat, Louis. You are so fat. Why did you ever let yourself get this fat? Do you not see what you've done? Look what you've done, you're a monster. You're so_ fat _. The boys are gonna have to roll you out. Louis, you've_ ruined _yourself._

Louis tries not to tear up because, shit, he's done such a great job at making himself believe this. He's done too good a job of making himself believe this, why did he _do this?_ Why would he ever do this to himself? Liam frowns.

"Yeah, but this has been a long time running thing, Louis. You… you've been looking… I don't know, you're pep is gone," Liam says, and Louis can fill in a _lot_ of words for how he might have been looking.

_Chubby, nasty, flubby, sick, unhealthy, gross, unfortunate, pathetic, revolting, disgusting, disgusting, fat, fat, fat, fat._

"I guess fame really does change you," Louis passes off with a laugh. He moves for the hair wax because he honestly looks so awful and he has to make sure at least his hair looks okay before he leaves the room because his face certainly isn't going to, and neither is his body. Liam catches his wrist.

"Harry noticed you're sleeping late, and so have I. You're… Louis, maybe you're sick, do you think you could be sick? You're so…" Liam moved his hand so his fingers completely encircled Louis's wrist, "Skinny. You're so, so, so skinny, my God, when did this happen?" he asked, eyes growing wide, and Louis pulled away. He wasn't _that_ thin. He wasn't thin at all. He was just… he was flat. And that's not good enough. Not yet, anyway.

"Nothing happened, I'm fine. I mean… I mean, I think… maybe this tour… I don't know; something is different. I'm more… I'm more stressed than last time is all. I'll be better once we have our break; our break is _so soon._ I'm just… I'm just tired and I keep falling asleep and missing breakfast and stuff and getting absorbed in things. I just need a break, you know?" he said with an awkward laugh because Louis _always_ awkwardly laughs when he's admitting something huge, and Louis has always been a particularly good actor, especially when it came to playing himself.

Liam didn't seem pleased.

"Well… okay. We'll start getting you to bed at a more reasonable hour, yeah? We're going to start taking care of you Louis, you're important, you know? Wouldn't want to see you start dwindling away," Liam assured him, pulling forward to plant a kiss to Louis's head.

That's the great thing about Liam, and the worst thing about trying to keep a secret from him.

Liam notices absolutely everything about you, and it's sweet, and he's just so attentive, and everything he says means something. But Louis just wants to be left alone. He wants to be left alone and to keep going throughout the motions of trying to eat and his brain automatically screaming no. It's the perfect solution, really. This is the best way, and he needs to keep it up. He has to hate himself or he'll stay the same. He has to hate or he won't change.

Liam was always the person to take care of you, and that really got in the way when you were trying to keep yourself from being taken care of. Louis wants to let things –silly things like eating- go. He wants to change for the better, even if he's doing it in a very negative way.

"Would you mind checking to make sure the back of my hair looks alright?" Louis asks, turning around and glaring at himself in one of the bathrooms many mirrors while Liam focused on his head.

_Stupid, ugly, fat, fat, fat, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating._

* * *

It's honestly _all the time now_. There's never a second where Louis sees himself and doesn't say something negative, and this whole thing has gone way too far. Ah, it's gone way too far; Louis _believes_ it. He says these things and he knows they're true, and it's awful.

He sticks a hand out in front of him to grab a microphone, and his brain is screaming at him how chubby his wrists are.

He bends down to tie his shoes, and he berates himself for sticking his fat ass out like this for the world to see.

He tugs on his pants in the morning, and Louis _doesn't want to talk about_ the things he says to himself.

They're so scary; this is all so scary. Louis feels like he's shaking all the time because he's driven himself to the point of insanity with this. And it doesn't make sense because it's not like Louis goes for days and days without eating, really. The longest span he got was a pathetic thirty-eight hours, but it just… it feels like his body is eating itself.

He can't do anything anymore. Louis feels like every motion is a giant effort, and he spends hours and hours crying in the bathroom because he used to have the biggest biceps in the group, and now he's muscle-less and he's got _nothing_. There's nothing left of him to be proud over.

It feels like a miracle that he makes it to the final bow for every concert, he is so tired and so… so lazy. He keeps calling himself lazy. He is _lazy._

Everything has gotten so difficult, and Louis is just… he's just tired.

* * *

Things don't get better after tour.

* * *

"Louis, this is a problem," Zayn says one day while they're sitting out on Louis's flat's little balcony where Zayn likes to smoke his cigarettes. Louis's head whips up from where he's fiddling his thumbs, and Zayn shakes his head at his curious expression. "Don't pull that shite with me, we're talking about _the problem_."

Louis etched his eyebrows together, confused. "And what exactly is 'the problem', Zayn?" he asked with a half smile like he would if 'the problem' was in reference to scones or public transportation. He has a sneaking suspicion, however, that Zayn has something a little more serious in mind. Something pertaining more to his more or less concave stomach and the poorly concealed bruises beneath his eyes.

"Louis, you look like hell," he says, and Louis bites his lip. Zayn always shoots straight. How Niall puts up with him, Louis will never know.

"Thanks, mate, I know," he tries with a smile, but that's one he _just can't manage_.

Zayn shakes his head. "No, Louis. No. You're… you're _gaunt_. Emaciated. This isn't a good kind of skinny, this is _the_ _problem_ kind of skinny. How… how far are you planning to take this?" the other boy asks, and Louis tries to keep cool because the other boys are right in the house. Zayn had only asked for him to keep him company while he smoked, and now the younger boy is stamping out his fag and Louis is starting to realise that maybe he had other intentions.

"I… take what?" he asked, and Zayn stood up.

"Follow me," he said, and Louis _hated_ this part of Zayn. He hated how he wouldn't say anything until someone had to. He hated how Zayn wasn't delicate about problems when they couldn't be ignored. He hated how he would fix you by crashing you down, and Louis was having a heart attack. Zayn leads him into the kitchen and opens up his cupboard. "Louis, what's in this?" he asks, and Louis blanches.

"That's Niall's favourite cereal, Harry's favourite crisps, Liam's favourite-"

"And where the fuck is _your_ food, Louis?" he asks, and Louis grips the wall, eyes falling to the ground, and Zayn snaps his fingers to get all of his attention again. "Louis. Where the fuck is your food? I don't… I don't know how else to prove or unprove it. So _where is your food?_ " he asks, and there's a begging look in Zayn's eyes like he wants Louis to tell him where he's keeping all his own favourite biscuits and sweets. Like he wants Louis to prove he's eating.

And Louis knows how hard Zayn must have been thinking about this. He gets that Zayn is a man of thought, not one of words depending on the occasion. He knows that Zayn's the smartest of the five of them, and it's only natural he would be the one to figure it out and to check his cabinets for a sign, but there are _three other sets of eyes_ on him, and Louis feels like maybe this would have been better handled in private.

"Zayn, I don't… I haven't been shopping in awhile, I don't-"

"Louis," Zayn cuts him off, tears pooling in his eyes, and Louis instantly silences. "Louis, you… don't…" Zayn pulls him into a hug, and this is scary because _Zayn doesn't hug_. Half the time he side hugs Niall. He doesn't… Oh, God. "You're so thin. Oh my god, your so thin. You're disappearing; stop disappearing, where did you go?" he asks, and Zayn is shaking, which probably means his crying, and naturally, Louis feels Niall's hand on his shoulder in a heartbeat. He turns to look at him, and there are tears rushing down Niall's cheeks, but Louis has a feeling he has no idea what's going on. Bless Niall's big, beautiful heart, but he got confused so fast when it came to serious matters.

"I don't wanna make you buy my cereal instead of yours, Louis. I don't… I don't want you to not have yours," he says, and Louis sniffs, and realises he's crying and shudders a bit under Zayn and under Niall looking at him so earnestly. He laughs a bit because it hasn't hit him at _all_ , and he pulls Niall into his and Zayn's hug.

"Aw, Niall, I think I can afford both, I just…" Okay, okay. Okay, it's definitely hitting him now. "I just didn't _want_ it," he says, and holy fuck, all of a sudden, he's falling to his knees (but slowly, slowly with Zayn and Niall holding him up so he doesn't hurt himself), and he's sobbing, he's sobbing, he can't breathe.

Someone pulls him into their lap, and he instantly recognises it as Harry despite his inability to see past the blur of his tears because this is how Harry feels. Louis grabs onto the first person his fingers brush across, and it happens to be Liam, he knows by the smell as he buries his face into Liam's neck. There are hands on him, and he can't tell them apart. Or… he could, but they're all moving around and he is too emotional to keep track.

"We're gonna fix this. We're gonna fix this," someone says, and Louis doesn't care who it was, he just wants them to be right.

* * *

"Louis? Louis…? Psssst, Louis, wake up. Please wake up. I need you to wake up," comes a voice in the middle of the night, tugging Louis gently out of sleep. He groaned and rolled over. Who was this? Didn't they know how _tired he was_?

"Whaddya want?" he asked, his whole body aching and exhausted.

"Louis, please wake up, I need you. And maybe you need me. Please wake up."

Louis would wake up for that voice whenever it asked him to.

"What's going on Harry? Why are you up so late? It's…" Louis checked his alarm clock for reference. "Shit, it's three in the morning, Haz. Aren't you tired? I'm always so tired," he says, and Harry looks all wrong. There was a frown taking over his usually soft, calming features. It's scary. Since when have all his friends been so scary?

"Lou, _why_?" Harry asks as means of an answer, and Louis watches the other boy nervously swipe hair from his forehead. "Why would you do such bad things to yourself? Why would you try to ruin yourself like this?" he asks, and Louis frowns.

"I wasn't trying to ruin myself, I was… I was fixing things. I was fixing me," he says, looking down at his stomach and the words just wont' stop repeating themselves.

_Fat, ugly, lazy, pathetic, going-nowhere, worthless, disgusting, chubby, nasty, grotesque, lethargic, chunky, hefty, ugly, ugly, fat, fat, fat, stop eating, stop eating, just stop eating._

"But this is bad, Louis. Louis, this is so bad. Didn't you know it was bad? You're not… you're not you, and…" Harry wipes his eyes, and Louis feels so guilty for making everybody get upset like this. "I didn't help. I didn't notice. I'm supposed to help. Why would you…" Harry doesn't seem to know what to say. Louis takes his hand up in both of his own, kissing along his knuckles for a second because he knows it calms him down.

"I just wanted to lose a few pounds," he says after a moment, staring at his knees like they were an opening to an endless abyss. _Where is the bottom? Where's the bottom?_

Harry makes a strangled sound, and his shoulders heave in a way that tell Louis he's completely beyond comprehension. "You've never _needed_ to lose a few pounds. And how… Louis, you're… How did I not notice how thin you've grown? I'm supposed to be the best friend. I'm supposed to notice," he says, and Louis shakes his head.

"I didn't want anyone to notice. It was all supposed to be fine," he says, and Harry sobs.

"Then how did it _get this far_?" he begs for answers, and Louis doesn't have any. He pulls away from Harry to run his hands through his hair, and he doesn't know why he ever let the boys stay the night because now that he's let them come over for one, he knows they're never going home.

"I just… I don't know. I just… I can't stop telling myself bad things now. I just think about me, and… and…"

 _Stop eating, stop eating, you're huge, you're massive, you're disgusting. I hate you. I_ hate _you._

"It's not anything _good_ anymore. I'm… I don't know how it got like this. I made myself this way, but I don't… I don't think I meant to, I just… I can't stop. I can't stop doing the wrong thing," he says, hugging his knees to his chest, and trying to ignore Harry in favour of keeping himself together. He's not ready to let this all go yet. Zayn sprung all this need to change on him, and he's… he can't do that yet. He has to be thin. He's too ugly to stop now. He can't stop now.

Harry takes gasping breaths and pulls him into a hug. Louis loses his shit because he's felt so alone for so long and takes up a turn sobbing to Harry instead of the other way around.

"You… You shouldn't think that way, Louis… I… I… Oh no, Louis, I've always been jealous of _you_. I've always been measuring myself up to _you_. We all have, how could you… how could you ever think anything… Louis, why would you do this?" Harry asks again, and Louis shakes.

"I don't _know_. I don't _know_ why, and I shouldn't have, and it was so stupid, but now I'm stuck, it's just a habit, and I… I hate me. I just hate me so much, Harry, I'm so awful, and… and it's like… it's like… It's like somewhere along the way I just realised how terrible I am all of a sudden, and now it's all I can think about. I can't stop thinking about it," he sobs, and Harry's crying too hard to calm him down at this point.

They're both using each other for support, just like always, and it's working quite well.

* * *

Louis looks in the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath. He has a feeling that this is _never_ going to be easy.

* * *

"Gonna get up for breakfast, Lou?"

"No."

* * *

"How are you feeling, Louis?"

"Absolutely fine, now back off, you're suffocating me."

* * *

It's been weeks, and Niall, Harry, Zayn, and Liam are still milling about his house. There are boys in his guest room, and the pull-out couch is always done up with sheets. There are suitcases tucked in every corner and five toothbrushes at the sink. Louis tells them to go home, but they don't listen.

He feels claustrophobic.

They spend hours at the table with him, trying to convince him that he looks fine and that he can do this, threatening him that if they don't start seeing improvement they're going to have to send him away. Louis appreciates it deep down, but really he just doesn't understand why they would do this to him.

Anyone with eyes can see how disgustingly massive and horrifyingly unattractive Louis is, so why are they trying so hard to undo the steps he's taking in the right decision.

It's not until the very end of their time off that Louis sees what he's been doing.

He's pulling on his clothes for the morning and for the first time his ribs catch his eye. And Louis has seen his body before, it's not like he's blind, except maybe he has been because what the _actual fuck?_

He's tiny. He's so tiny. When he puts his arms down, yeah, there's just an outline of his ribs, but when he puts them up he goes full skeleton. His skin seems stretched over his bones, and his biceps. It finally dawns on him why they're gone. They're not gone because he's lazy, he's gone because his body really and actually is _eating itself_. That's what happens.

Louis is literally breaking himself down. He's killing himself. Holy shit, he's killing himself, and he gags for a moment because he's… oh goodness, what has he been doing?

How did this happen without him noticing? He's pale because he's sick, and he can see his veins through his skin. His wrists look like old people's wrists. His hair is matt, and not because he's not blessed with any natural beauty, but because he's not taking care of it the right way. This is why he's so tired. He's not lazy, he's not, he's just hungry.

Louis is so, so, so hungry.

He tugs his shirt on the whole way and storms into the kitchen, ignoring the way the other boys are staring at him, and tearing open the fridge, taking out the pasta from last night and eating it with his fingers before Liam passes him a fork. (He's too busy ravaging for what he'll eat next to grab one on his own.)

And Louis eats a lot in that one sitting. Louis eats so much he thinks he might throw up, and he suspects the other boys might thinks so too because as Louis stands up to grab some ice cream or something, Zayn sits him back down and says he's not going to binge just to purge later.

And then there's some assurances that Louis deserved to eat a lot this time around and that he really does need to gain weight, and he shouldn't feel guilty later. And Louis doesn't know what they mean at the moment, but he will soon and the way they're talking about this like it might be something he regrets scares him.

He's just hungry.

He's letting himself be hungry.

* * *

"Lou, do you think that maybe we could talk for a second?" Liam asks a few days after Louis had managed to rip apart the fridge and cupboard in an attempt to make up for months and months of putting as little in his body as possible. He hasn't eaten anything since. It sickens him to think about.

He follows Liam out onto the balcony where Zayn and Niall are making out like usual (ew, cooties), and motions for him to sit in a chair while the couple scurries away. Liam lets out a big breath of air.

"Louis, I… I've gotten you a nutritionist," he says, and Louis opens his mouth to protest, but Liam keeps going before an argument can escape his lips. "Look, it's just… I think you want to get better. I know… I know you do. I know all of this wasn't in your intention or whatever, but I… I just have no idea how to _help_ , you know? I don't know how I'm supposed to help you, I'm… I'm not smart, Louis."

Louis frowns. "You're plenty smart," he said quietly, but Liam just shook his head.

"No… I'm not smart in the way you need smart. And… And Zayn, and Niall, and Harry, and I… we can be there for you. I'd like to think that we are very good at being there for you. We just want to support you and make sure you're feeling good, and… and you feel that, right? That's not a shock to you?" he asked, and Louis shook his head.

"No, of course not," he answers, and Liam nods.

"Right. Okay, well… Well, Louis, I don't know how to deal with this. It's not like I've ever… I don't talk to anorexics, Lou. The only one I know is you. And it's… it's okay that you're like this, you know? You don't have to… you don't have to be embarrassed, you just have to see that it's bad, but… but I mean, what I'm trying to say is… shit, this is all so much," Liam swears, and Louis pokes him in the ribs.

"You _swore_. Don't worry, I won't tell your mum, but I _will_ rave about corrupting you to the boys the second we see them," he teases, and it gets Liam to smile, so mission accomplished.

"Hah, how do I even put up with such an evil bastard?" he asked, and Louis put a hand over his heart, acting fairly gay and fairly shocked.

"Two curses in one conversation? Go suck on soap, you and your dirty tongue!" he says, appalled, and Liam smiles again and ruffles his hair.

"When we're done, sure," he answers and clears his throat. "But what I mean to say is that I don't know how to help you, Lou. But I want to. So… So I thought a nutritionist might be a good idea. So we can just listen to what they say and try to follow their rules, okay? And also… also, I did… I got you a therapist. But I got us all one. And you don't have to go alone, right? Cause we want to support you, and I thought… I thought it might be okay for us all to sit around and talk about things. And we could all say stuff about the pressure and about how the fans get to us, and like… it'd be like when we have our group cry sessions with ice cream except with less dessert and more trained professionals. And if you wanted to say anything about eating or not eating, then you could and we would listen and try to help. And if you didn't, then we can play marriage counsellor and break up all of Zayn and Niall's fights, yeah?"

"Zayn and Niall fight every three years, but yeah. Okay. I wanna get better," he says honestly, though he shrinks in on himself when he says it, but Liam smiles at him encouragingly.

"Of course you do. And we're going to help. You don't… you don't have to hate yourself, Louis, you know? We all love you here. That's four people thinking your perfect against one, and I'm pretty sure the majority has it, yes?"

"Yes," Louis says with a mini grin.

He thinks both he and Liam walk out pretty happy that day.

* * *

"I want the middle seat!" Louis yelps, leaping onto the couch and situating himself in the very centre before any of his band mates could disagree. The other boys filter in around him, and Louis finds himself the peanut butter and jelly in a Niall and Harry sandwich. Zayn and Liam from the outside edges both manage to entangle their legs with his, and all together they're quite the happy family. Louis snuggles under a blanket Liam throws over the five of them.

"What's the movie, Liam?" he asks, grabbing the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table and absent-mindedly taking a handful. He may miss the action of eating something, but he doesn't miss the soft, proud smiles he earns from each of his friends.

" _Toy Story 3_ ," he answers and is met with simultaneous groans.

"Liam, any sixteen-year-old girl with internet access could guess you picking _Toy Story 3_ as the movie we watch. Branch out. Chose something else," Louis demands, and Liam shakes his head.

"No, it's my week to pick! You can't tell me to change it when it's my week!" he argues, and Louis rolls his eyes.

"Show of hands. Who thinks we should pick a different movie because we've all seen this one at least eight times," he says, and he, Niall, Zayn, and Harry all throw their hands into the air. "The majority has it, Liam," he says sassily, and he can almost see the facepalm Liam is doing inside his head.

"Remind me not to do or say anything nice to you ever again," he says, and Louis flashes him a shit-eating grin before nestling the bowl of popcorn between him and Niall to fight over as Liam put in _Avengers_ because it never gets less awesome.

"Glad to have you back, Lou," Harry says quietly at his side and there's a weird shift in the room, and Louis doesn't know how he feels about it. Niall latches onto his arm and snuggles up against him like a cat rubbing its head on someone's leg.

"Yeah. I missed you," the blonde says, and Zayn and Louis lock eyes. Zayn gets the message.

"Hey, you're supposed to just miss me, not anyone else!" he argues, instantly lightening the mood, and Louis inwardly sends him a thank you note. He still gets a kiss to the temple from Harry, but that's more than welcome, and he's okay when Niall doesn't let go of his arm for the entire movie.

Maybe Louis still doesn't like himself, and sometimes he can't help but have an anxiety attack when he notices how the needle is mounting back up the scale again (even if in his case that's a good thing), but he doesn't hate himself.

How could he when he's got four boys who love him this much?


End file.
